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VOL. Vllli-No. 24
MIRACLES OF REDEMPTION AT CARTERSVILLE
♦
GYPSY SMITH, WORLD-FAMOUS EVANGELIST OF ENGLAND, AND JOHN CALLAHAN, SUPT. OF HADLEY BOWERY MISSION,
NEW YORK, WONDERFUL EXAMPLES OF REDEEMING GRACE—SAM JONES TABERNACLE MEETINGS AUG. 3-13.
w| F I had been a blatant infidel “these
1J forty years” and more —if I had gone
further and been an out and out athe
ist (if such an one exists on earth) ;
if I had been a Fire Worshiper from Persia,
a Parsee from India, a Confucian from China
a Buddhist from Japan, a Hottentot from Af
rica or even a Mohammedan from Constantino
ple—if I had been any or all of these in one,
and had been at the Sam Jones Tabernacle at
Cartersville last Sunday, with a grain of in
tellect and a gleam of conscience left with
■B liL.
Founder Sam Jones Tabernacle.
which to receive the impartation and the im
plantation of truth, I could not have looked
at Gypsy Smith and John Callahan and believ
ed their marvelous stories of redeeming grace
in their own lives without shouting with the
wondering people at Carmel: “The Lord, He is
God! The Lord, He is God!”
The Atmosphere of the Skies.
The great Sam Jones Tabernacle was crowd
ed at the opening service. Memories of the
days when the famous and beloved Georgia
evangelist erected that tabernacle and ruled
for years its thronging thousands from a throne
of love —memories yet further back, memories
of gray-haired men and women there who
“THE GOLDEN AGE BABY”—Page 9.
ATLANTA, GA., AUGUST 7
By WILLIAM D. UPSHAW, Editor.
knew Sam Jones in his early erring days as
a lost sinner on the streets of Cartersville, and
then saw him until death “kept by the power
of God” as a miracle of redeeming love —
memories like these and the thoughts that
these memories brought in whole batallions of
holy inspiration, were making the very atmos
phere vocal and vibrant with the music of
the spheres and the aroma of the skies
It was enough to give any sane man a good
case of religion before a word was uttered or
a song was sung.
Bob Jones Given Ovation.
When Bob Jones, the beloved Alabama evan
gelist. who won the hearts of the people during
his great meeting last year, stepped on the
platform, the great crowd broke into a beau
tiful demonstration of welcome, waving him a
chautauqua salute and making him thank God
afresh for the privilege of living, loving and
being loved, and especially for being asked by
the Christian business men of Cartersville to
conduct these annual Tabernacle meetings.
“1 love everybody on earth,” said Bob
Jones “and the peace of heaven is in my
heart.”
And McKenzie Sang.
McKenzie, Bob Jones’ singer, fresh from
new and treasured laurels at Tent Evangel,
New York, his face haloed with a corner on
sunshine, led the great congregation in songs
new and old until the melody seemed to “rend
the vaulted skies” and break in silver waves
about the throne of God. And when the peo
ple prayed heaven bent down and kissed all
hearts into reverence and worship, while on
every side the eyes of worshipers were gem
med with tears that were crystal with the light
of heaven.
And then Bob Jones introduced Gypsy
Smith.
“I bring you the best on earth,” he said,
“for everybody knows that God has made
Gypsy Smith the ideal evangelist of the world.’
“My dear friends,” said the little bronzed
man with black mustache, “I don’t believe
what my generous friend has said. He meant
well, but I am nothing at all but a poor sin-
ner trusting in Jesus for "salvation and
strength. But the prayer just now got hold
of my heart. I was a Gypsy boy again. I
saw myself selling clothes pins from that rov
ing camp. And I see myself now in thanks
giving as God’s messenger to multitudes all
over the world. If I were an artist I would
like to paint the picture of the two —the little
Gypsy boy as I was, poor, sinful and ignorant,
and then speaking to this multitude this morn
ing for the glory of my Redeemer, and 1 would
write under the two pictures in capital letters
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GYPSY SMITH.
of gold: “What hath God wrought?” And
I would like for the “higher critics” to explain
that,” said Gypsy Smith in ringing tones
while a blended smile of humility and triumph
wreathed his radiant face.
From that moment the vast crowd belonged
to Gypsy Smith. Whether he sang (and he
is a wonderful singer) or whether he unfolded
the “deep things of God” the multitude hung
an his every meaningful word.
“We Are Partakers.
His sermon was the heart of the Gospel by
Peter. 1. “We are partakers of his divine
nature.” 2. “We are partakers of his suf
ferings.” 3. “We are partakers of his glory.”
z . ,r ‘ {Coritjnued on page four.)
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